The Eve of Two

 Dear Esperanza Grace, 

On the eve of your second birthday, the sisters of Joy and Grief once more hold hands. Grief reminds me that the sands of time are constantly and quickly slipping through my pinched fingers at the center of this hour glass. Joy reminds me of the precious grains that I have yet to know in my grasp. 

I grieve and rejoice because your love for me will change in ways that I cannot control or predict. I suppose it's the inevitability of Adam and Eve's eviction from Eden. You, too, someday will make a choice that is "not me." It may be choosing to consume something that I consider "unhealthy;" it may be choosing to spend time with a partner or friend, rather than me; it could be neglecting to do something I asked you to do. The story of Adam has become all the more heartbreaking in light of my love for you because I know that I will never stop wanting you to choose me. I will never stop loving you. Yet, our love is not sincere unless you get that choice again and again and again. And therein resides the Gospel.

We live in a society that frequently confuses love with comfort, but comfort is predicated upon condition and circumstance.  Love is neither conditional nor circumstantial. It is the tension of equal and opposing forces held in equal esteem. Comfort can role play as Joy, but Joy is only known when held alongside Grief. Love bears these sisters in equal measure.

This evening, Grief said "good night" to one-year-old Espy for the last time. In the morning, Joy will hug two-year-old Espy for the first time. 

And love holds all of these precious grains of sand in gratitude.

I love you, Espy Grace.

Always,

Momma

Week 1

Week 81